


Making Amends

by flyingcarpet



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-23
Updated: 2010-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-11 18:16:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingcarpet/pseuds/flyingcarpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey, we're okay, right?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Amends

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to thistlerose and silveronthetree for looking at this and telling me it doesn't suck. Written for the prompts _patrol_ and _repairs_.

Faith knows she has a lot to apologize for, to everyone. And it's not like she put it off intentionally, but ever since she got out (broke out) of prison, it's been one crisis after another, and her own petty issues haven't exactly been front and center. So it's not until two months after the collapse of Sunnydale that she realizes she still hasn't even tried to say she's sorry to Xander. For using him, for not using him enough, for ignoring him and then fucking him and then ignoring him again. He hardly got the worst of it, but that's not really a consolation.

They're patrolling in Cleveland's Riverside Cemetery, which is a huge, sprawling city of the dead, full of old-timey mausoleums and gravestones, all decorated with creepy angels and birds. The moon is three days from full and the entire place is lit with a dim, cold light, the summer heat permeates everything and the air sticks to her skin. Things that are normally cold-blooded are warm and lazy tonight, but it makes Faith restless and itchy.

"Hey, we're okay, right?" she says to Xander, because he always seems to be just an extra step away from her and she knows it's not right, somehow.

He stops and looks at her, and his one real eye flicks to the side and she knows he's lying when he says, "What do you mean?"

"Look, I know I didn't--" she starts, and then stops. She's not so good with explaining herself, or feelings, or talking shit out at all, really. It makes all these mending-fences conversations even harder than they have to be.

Next to a crumbling marble mausoleum, she steps closer to him and he doesn't step back. It's the first time in months that they haven't had that extra six inches as a buffer and she feels his presence very distinctly now, like Xander is _right there_ in her space, and she kinda likes it.

All of a sudden Faith has an idea, how she can maybe make things up to him. She's never been one for looking before leaping, so she goes for it, just steps even closer and plants an open-mouth kiss on him, grabbing his shoulders with her hands and crowding in until his back's against the mausoleum wall and she's pressed against him from hip to shoulder.

She half expects him to resist, to back away and act shocked or disgusted or maybe shove her off him, but she's wrong about that. Instead, there's a moment of stillness and then he's kissing her back, mouth hungry and urgent like he's been waiting for this for a long time. He digs one hand into her hair and holds on, and traces his other hand down the length of her spine slowly, so that tingles run over her skin and let her know that yes, this was much better than a stupid, earnest talk.

Faith remembers what Xander was like in bed, the one time they tried it, but he was younger then, inexperienced. He's changed a lot since then (so has she); he's not a fumbling teenager anymore but a man with a jaded edge and a glass eye. He doesn't need anyone to steer him around the curves this time.

His hand reaches the bottom of her spine and settles there, pulling her hips tighter against his own. Faith doesn't need any encouragement, and she grinds against him and finds him already hardening.

The cemetery is dark and quiet around them, and Faith can feel the adrenaline rushing across her skin, the knowledge that anything could be watching them through the night, but she doesn't care. She wants to push Xander to the ground and ride him hard and fast until she gets her own satisfaction, but that's not what this is about. This is an apology. It's supposed to be about him.

She drops to her knees, the manicured grass forming a soft cushion as she unzips his shorts. Xander's eye is about to pop out of his head, and he stammers out something like "You don't have to--"

"I want to," Faith says, looking at his dick instead of his face. It's easier; it's right there in front of her. "I'm sorry," she says, and then she traces her tongue along the vein on the underside, from root to tip. Xander lets out a garbled moan but he doesn't manage anything that sounds like English.

She takes him in, deep, her lips tightening around his shaft as her tongue strokes him. He tastes like sweat and earth and _man_ , and he's squirming and moaning and clutching her hair as she sucks him, and Faith smiles a little around her mouthful of cock.

It doesn't take long at all before his legs start to shake and she feels his balls tighten in her hand, and then he's coming apart above her, panting out her name and a string of curses, and she's swallowing him whole.

He pulls her up to standing as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and kisses her neck softly. She can hear his breath against her ear, still ragged and uneven. "Apology accepted," he says.

When Faith feels his fingers slipping inside the waistband of her jeans, she knows he means it.


End file.
